The colonel gaped at her for a moment, then shut her mouth with a snap.
"Interpreting the Legion's general orders is not within your authority, Lieutenant!"
"So court-martial me!" Rembrandt shot back. "But until I'm found guilty and formally removed, these troops are under my command, not yours!"
Battleax recoiled, then glanced around the room. The Legionnaires displayed a variety of expressions ranging from sullen to bemused. It was clear, however, that they stood with Rembrandt, and there was no visible support for her own position.
"I see," she said through gritted teeth. "Very well, if you want proper authority, I'll get it! A call to General Blitzkrieg should settle this. I'd advise you all not to do anything rash until I get back."
She started for the door, but was stopped short as Lieutenant Rembrandt's voice shattered the sudden silence.
"All right! I want you all to bear witness to this! As of now, I'm using my authority to declare martial law!"
"What?" Battleax shrieked, any trace of poise or dignity slipping away at the outrage. "You can't do that! No one in the Space Legion has ever-"
"I've done it," Rembrandt returned grimly, "and it stands until someone overrules it. Someone with more available firepower than I have!"
"But ..."
"Lieutenant Armstrong!" Rembrandt barked suddenly, turning her back on the colonel.
"Sir!"
"There is an unauthorized civilian interfering with our operation. Have her removed and held under guard until further notice."
"Yes, sir!"
"Have you all gone-"
"Sergeant Brandy!"
"Got it, sir. Harry?"
"I'm on it, Top."
The supply sergeant clicked his fingers and pointed. In response, one of the supply clerks tossed him a pump shotgun, which Harry plucked from the air. Against his bulk, the weapon looked almost like a toy.
Battleax, stood stunned, sweeping the entire room again with her eyes. This time, no one was smiling.
"You're all really quite serious about this, aren't you?" she said.
In answer, Chocolate Harry worked the slide of the shotgun he was holding, racking a live shell into the weapon's chamber with a harsh sound that echoed in the room, and the weapon no longer looked like a toy.
"Easy, Harry," Rembrandt ordered, her voice still tight with tension. "Look, Colonel. We're going after the captain, no matter who gets in our way. Now stand back or fall back. It's your choice."
"You know, don't you, that they're likely to kill him if you try to take him by force?" Battleax's voice was suddenly soft.
"There's that possibility," the lieutenant acknowledged. '"But there's as much a chance that they'll kill him if we don't. You see, his father won't pay the ransom."
"It don't make no difference," Chocolate Harry put in.
"What was that, Sergeant?"
"You folks may know more about the military than me," C.H. said, "but let me tell you somethin' about criminals. They're lookin' at some serious charges now that they've moved up to kidnappin'. They're not gonna want to leave any witnesses around, and the biggest witness against them is the cap'n. They gotta kill him whether the money gets paid or not."
"We're the only chance Captain Jester has of coming out of this alive," Rembrandt continued quietly. "We've got to at least try. If we just sit around ..." She shook her head, letting her voice trail off.
"I see," Battleax said thoughtfully. "Tell me, Lieutenant, since you won't let me relieve you of command, would you be willing to accept me as a civilian advisor?"
Lieutenant Rembrandt's face split in a sudden smile.
"I'm always ready to listen to advice, Colonel," she said. "I'm still fairly new at this."
"You'll do," Battleax said. "However, there's one thing I think you should consider in your plans-something I get the feeling you've overlooked in your enthusiasm. There are large numbers of civilians in the complex who are legitimate innocent bystanders. I think it would be wisest in the long run if an effort was made to ensure they didn't get caught in your cross fire."
The two lieutenants exchanged glances.
"She's got a point there, Remmie," Armstrong acknowledged reluctantly.
"What I would suggest is some sort of diversion," the colonel continued. "Something to give you am excuse to evacuate people from the complex, or at least from the vicinity of your action."
"I suppose," Rembrandt said, chewing her lower lip subconsciously. "Maybe we could arrange a bomb threat or a fire alarm ..."
"Why not a movie?"
The officers looked in the direction of this new voice.
"What was that, Lex?"
"I said, `Why not a movie?'" Lex grinned, moving to join their discussion. "Just tell everyone you need to clear the complex for an hour or so because you're shooting some footage for a new holo. Believe me, they'll cooperate. You'll be amazed at how people bend over backward to be helpful if they think it gets them a closer look at the magical mystical world of moviemaking."
"That has possibilities," Rembrandt said, looking at Armstrong.
"I know I'd go along with a holo crew if they asked me to get out of their way," her partner admitted.
"It's better than a bomb scare or a fire alarm," the actor urged. "No panic, no bad publicity for the complex. What's more, we have everything we need to pull it off."
"How so?"
"That cameraman you were holding has a holo-camera rig in his room. It's not the same as they use for the big productions, but we can say it's a low-budget operation or that we're just shooting test footage. We've even got a recognizable holo star we can parade in front of everyone to be sure it all looks legit."
"You mean Dee Dee Watkins?" Armstrong frowned. "Do you think she'd go along with it?"
"Leave her to me." Lex winked. "Remember, I speak the language. It might cost a little, though."
"Set it up, Lex," Rembrandt said, reaching her decision. "In fact, I'll put the whole diversion in your hands, since you know more about this sort of thing than any of us. If anyone gives you any flak, tell them I've given you a battlefield promotion to the rank of acting sergeant for the duration of this operation."
She glanced at Battleax, who nodded her approval.
"Yes, sir," Lex said, snapped off a salute, and started to turn away, then hesitated. "What about the owner ... whazizname ... Gunther? Should I clear this with him as well?"
"If you want, Remmie, I'll handle that," Armstrong offered. "I've gotten the impression that Mr. Rafael is afraid of me, for some reason."
"Do that, Lieutenant," Rembrandt said. "But remember to ask nice."
Armstrong frowned. "I hadn't planned to ask ... just inform him of what we were going to do."
"That's what I meant." Rembrandt smiled sweetly. "Carry on, Lieutenant. You, too, Sergeant."
The actor moved a few steps away and triggered his wrist communicator.
"Lex, you rascal," came Mother's voice. "How many times have I got to tell you no before you stop tying up the airwaves? You're a gorgeous hunk of man, but I just ain't interested. Okay?"
The actor flushed slightly at the snickers that erupted from the Legionnaires standing close enough to hear, but pressed on with his new duty.
"This is Sergeant Lex, Mother, and this is an official call."
"Come again?"
"I said this is Sergeant-all right, Acting Sergeant Lex. I'm down here at the war council, and Lieutenant Rembrandt has just put me on a special assignment. I need your help."
"Who doesn't?" came the jaunty response. "Okay, Acting Sergeant Lex, what can I do for you?"
"Dee Dee Watkins should be finishing her show in the next few minutes," the actor said. "Have someone meet her when she comes offstage and bring her over to the war council. Then see if you can find that cameraman and send him along as well. In fact, get the reporter, too, if you can find her. No harm in a little publicity while we're doing this. Also, pass the word to the duty crew that there'll be new orders coming
shortly. We're going to be evacuating the complex for a while. Got that?"
"Got it," Mother echoed. "Sounds like we're finally on the move."
"I'll leave that explanation to Lieutenant Rembrandt," Lex countered. "Just put those calls through, and give me a confirmation when you're done. Okay?"
"I'm on it. Mother out."
Glancing around, Lex caught Trooper's eye and beckoned him over.
"I've got to duck out of here for a few minutes," he. said. "If Dee Dee or the others show up, hang on to them until I get back."
"Where are you going, Lex?" the youth inquired.
"I don't know about the cameraman," the actor explained, "but I do know Dee Dee won't powder her nose without a contract. Fortunately I happen to have a couple blanks upstairs in my room."
"You do?"
"I never leave home without one, kid, even if I only end up using it for a reference." Lex winked. "As you can see, there's no telling when your next job might pop up."
In short order, the meeting had broken down into a number of small groups, each working out the details of their own portion of the operation. Conversation ebbed and swirled as small arguments broke out over one specific or other, but these were quickly smoothed over. Despite their occasional differences, everyone was united behind one objective-to free their captain before any harm came to him-and there was simply no time to indulge in petty bickering.
"I know there are holes in it," Lex was saying to Dee Dee. "I just thought you'd rather have some kind of contract. If you want, we can do this on scout's honor."
"Not a chance," the starlet said. "But really, Lex, this contract is for a series, not a movie."
"It's a fast copy of my last contract," the actor explained, "which happened to be for a series. We don't have time to put together a new agreement from scratch. Think of it as being for a series of movies."
"At these prices? Not bloody likely," Dee Dee said with a snort.
"I keep telling you, love, there's no actual movie involved. We just want to make a bit of noise and clutter so that the tourists will think we're making a movie."
"Even so, I'm worth ten times what's being offered here."
Lex flashed a wide smile at her.
"Oh, come on, ducks. Maybe the rabble will believe that, if you plant it in enough columns, but you and I both know that if you could command those kinds of prices, you wouldn't be doing a lounge act right now."
"You're such a bastard, Lex," the starlet said, baring her teeth.
"Look, don't think of it as being underpaid for a movie, think of it as being vastly overpaid for maybe an hour's posturing. Now, do you want in on this or not? We can shove someone else out in front of the camera, you know, but I'd rather it was someone the common folk will recognize."
"Oh, all right!" Dee Dee grumbled, scribbling her name next to Lex's on the document. "Now, how about wardrobe? What's this thing supposed to be about, anyway?"
"We figured the rough scenario would be the wronged woman-only you're an ex-army type so you're getting even with a machine gun or something. That will explain all the uniforms and lethal hardware we'll have hanging around."
"Not bad," the actress said judiciously. "With the Lorelei backdrop, we could call it The Long Shot. Say, does that mean I get one of those uniforms like everyone else is wearing?"
That much of the conversation, at least, caught the attention of several of the Legionnaires in the room. Glancing over to check Lex's reaction, they noted that, to his credit, a quick expression of distaste swept across his features before he caught himself and regained his confident smile.
"And hide those luscious curves of yours in baggy fatigues?" he said smoothly. "Not a chance, love. We want something that will show off everything the public is paying to see. How about that sexy tight outfit you were wearing at rehearsals?"
"You mean my old leotard?" The starlet frowned. "It's got a couple tears in it and is worn almost through in spots ... some rather revealing spots."
"Precisely." Lex beamed. "Of course, we'll give you some nasty-looking weaponry and maybe an ammo belt ... Sergeant Harry?"
"Yo, Lex."
"Can you fix Dee Dee up with some big, ugly armaments? Something that looks scary, but is light enough for her to handle?"
"Can do," the supply sergeant said, his eyes darting over the starlet's form. "I'll have one of the boys pull the firing pin just to be sure it don't go off accidental."
"There. You see?"
"But ..."
"Just scamper along, love, and fetch back that outfit. I think we're going to be moving soon."
Chocolate Harry, in the meantime, was having problems of his own. A small tug-of-war was escalating between one of his supply clerks and the big Voltron, Tusk-anini.
"Come on, Tusk," Super Gnat was saying, trying to dissuade her partner. "We can go with something else."
"Give me weapon now!" the Voltron insisted, ignoring the little Legionnaire as he tugged once more at the armament the supply clerk was clinging to, all but lifting the man's feet from the ground in the process.
"Hold it, Tusk-anini!" C. H. said, stepping in. "What seems to be the problem here, Jason?"
"He wants to use one of the Rolling Thunder belt-fed shotguns," the clerk complained, still red-faced from the argument and the exertion, "but he hasn't ever qualified with it!"
"You really want to use this, Tusk?" the sergeant said, making no effort to hide his surprise. "It don't really seem to be your style."
The belt-fed shotguns were some of the deadliest, most vicious weapons in the company's arsenal. To say the least, it was an unlikely choice for the Voltron, whose pacifistic nature was well known.
"Captain need help. This will help!" Tusk-anini growled, not releasing his grip on the weapon.
"Give it to him," C.H. said, turning back to the supply clerk.
"But Sarge ..."
"Give it to him. I'll check him out on it myself."
With a shrug, the clerk released the weapon and watched as Tusk-anini walked away, cradling the bit of nastiness protectively in his arms.
"You tell me, hoss," the sergeant said softly. "Can you think of anyone in this outfit who could hold down that weapon better'n Tusk? It's got a kick like a sonofabitch."
"Well, no. But ..."
"'Sides, didn't your mama ever tell you it ain't healthy to argue with somethin' that outweighs you by maybe a ton?" Harry finished. "I'll tell you, Jase, you still got a lot to learn about survivin'."
With that he turned to go, only to find his path blocked by Colonel Battleax.
"Tell me, Sergeant," she said, "now that we have a moment relatively alone. That little episode we had earlier ... would you have really shot me?"
Harry had the grace to look a bit abashed.
"I'd of had to, Colonel," he admitted. "Truth is, I'd rather of just tried to knock you out, but the cap'n says there's a rule against noncoms hitting officers."
"Excuse me ... Lieutenant Rembrandt?"
"Yes, Beeker?"
"If I might have a moment of your time?"
The lieutenant glanced around the room to be sure everything was going smoothly-or as smoothly as could be expected-then nodded.
"Sure, Beek. What's up?"
"Am I understanding correctly that you're nearly ready to commence your rescue attempt?"
"Well, I think we're about ready as we'll ever be," Rembrandt confirmed.
"I notice that I have not been included in any of your planning," the butler said, "and I do appreciate that. I believe my employer would be most distressed if he thought I was attempting to assume a place in the company chain of command."
The Lieutenant smiled. "Don't worry. You're considered a civilian for this one-strictly noncombatant."
"Quite ... well, not quite." Beeker frowned. "That's what I wished to speak to you about. You see, I feel my own course of action in this situation is quite clear, nor is it likely that anyone could dissuade me from it. I thought, however, that you sh
ould be made aware of exactly what it is I intend to do, so that you could take it into account in your planning or, perhaps, even interphase with it."
Leaning close, the butler launched into an explanation of his thoughts. At first, Rembrandt frowned, shaking her head slightly, but as Beeker continued speaking, a slow, broad smile crept across her face.
As I have mentioned throughout this account, my role in this campaign was larger than normal, and never so noticeable as it was for the rescue attempt. I would hasten to clarify, however, that this did not mean I joined the Space Legion, even on a temporary basis, and was therefore never under their command or control. I am a butler, and owe my loyalties to a single, chosen individual, and the idea of accepting assigned authority has always been abhorrent to me. If anything. I prefer to think that the Space Legion temporarily joined me.
Max did not share Laverna's taste for holos, preferring instead to read during her occasional leisure time. She was indulging in this pastime now, having a substantial hunk of time to fill, and curled up on the sofa with a lamp shining over her shoulder and onto the book she was reading, Maxine almost gave the suite an air of domestic tranquillity. The effect was ruined, however, by the presence of the two gunmen in the room with her. Wearing their weapons openly in shoulder holsters, they alternately wandered around the room, peered out the window through the crack in the drawn curtains, fidgeted, and idly leafed through the room's small stack of magazines, looking at the pictures rather than actually reading.
Max found the extra movement in the room to be an irritating distraction, but refrained from saying anything. It wouldn't do to have her guards sullen or resentful at this stage of the game.
The truth was that they were all a trifle on edge. The nature of their operation normally allowed Maxine and those under her command free rein to prowl the casinos and walkways of Lorelei at will. Close confinement like this was unusual, and even though she had deliberately kept the contingent of guards down to four, Max found having extra people in her living quarters to be an unexpected trial. In idle moments, she mused over the irony that, as much as their unwilling guest, she and her people were being held prisoner by the current situation.
Phules Paradise Page 23
